This is not a post about sports, so Minette, you can safely keep reading.
I first noticed something weird about Pittsburgh when I was researching where I'd like to live. I bought the Places Rated Almanac and statistically compared 20 or so possible destinations. Pittsburgh rated very high, but that wasn't the weirdness. No, that was in the Crime section. There was nothing at all surprising about the top and bottom of the city crime rankings. All of the major metropolitan areas (New York, Miami, Seattle, etc.) were at the bottom. Small rural communities you've never heard of were at the top. And there, nestled in the rankings between Johnstown PA and Appleton WI near the top of the list, was Pittsburgh. No other major city was within 150 rankings of Pittsburgh.
"How is this possible?" I asked. "How can a large city so down on its luck have so little relative crime?" I researched some more, certain it was an error. It was not. There's little crime in Pittsburgh.
And when I moved to Seattle, I started watching games with displaced Pittsburghers. They talked funny, but they were uniformly decent, unpretentious folk. People with very little were nonetheless very generous. They were welcoming and interested in one another, and all ages, religions, genders and races not only befriended one another but comfortably discussed age, religion, gender and race with one another. Trust me; that's damned rare in Seattle.
I explained one day that I'm not actually from Pittsburgh, and one of my buddies rushed to interject "But he's a Pittsburgh guy." I thought he was merely affirming my credentials as a fan. He wasn't. I would soon learn that to Pittsburghers, "Pittsburgh guy" is a compliment of the highest order. To them it's not a geographical designation; it means decent, unpretentious. And subsequent trips to Pittsburgh have born this out. These are the finest, most welcoming people I've ever known. They value hard work and hard play, and they treat everyone like a potential new friend. And I mean everyone. Any trip to Pittsburgh has ended the same way: with me surfing real estate in Pittsburgh.
I'm not sure, but I think the city's depressive economic past has something to do with this. Maybe it humbled them. Maybe the people who remained take a particular pride in those who also remained. Maybe they want so badly to be from a special place, they've willed such a place into reality. For whatever reason, I want to wallow in these people.
This was never more clear than Friday night, when I was refueling my rental car in Pittsburgh. While it fueled, I went to buy a Diet Coke. And then inexplicably, I hopped in the car and took off. I severed the gas hose in two places (how is that even possible?), sheering the nozzle into the car's gas intake.
Fuck.
Soon I was apologizing to the gas station's owner on the phone. She said she'd attempt to do the repair herself, so it didn't cost me too much. She took my name and address. She didn't have the clerk ask for an ID. I could have given her any name and address. Percy's came to mind.
"Just let me know how much it was," I said. "I'm good for it."
"I know you are," she said simply. "Have a great trip home."
On my way to the airport, I got more than a little depressed.
